Peace is a Lie
by RougeJedi15
Summary: Shreave Rhell has just arrived on Korriban to begin his training as a marauder, and between the raven-haired sorceress Zalia, her psychotic assassin Eryon, Tremel's demands, and the brutal killer stalking his footsteps, his sense of humor is began to dry up faster than the Korriban ruins...
1. Arrival on Korriban

**This is the beginning of a retelling of the entire Old Republic, from Korriban/Tython to KotFE and Beyond. There are going to be a number of changes, particularly in the number of heroes/villains.**

 **It never made sense that there were only four republic and four imperial PCs, as no four heroes could always be puled away from world destroyers, or psychotic Jedi, or Covert military operations. Thus, most Flashpoints would be unable to be covered, and the other side planets and stories would be shoved aside, and never fully done.**

 **To compensate, I've approximately doubled the number of characters to nine on each side, with a primary Wrath, for example, and a secondary Darth, or a Voidhound, and their chief captain, as well as promoting a few side characters as new 'Companions', two for each class, and only appearing in Flashpoints or Ilum/Makeb 'Secondary' planets.**

 **This should increase the population of the flashpoints, making them more realistic, while not actually completely abandoning the class stories during their events.**

 **The planets will be in separate stories, with the shared planets split by faction to prevent having to tell eight stories simultaneously. Thus, Korriban will be far shorter than say Voss or Corellia.**

The hot arid desert of Korriban spread out across the horizon. Standing on the peak of the cliff outside of the Academy, Shreave Rhell stared out into the distance. Hands clasped behind his back, the Sith Pureblood let his deep gold eyes scan across the tombs strewn across the valley floor.

"Acolyte."

Shreave turned, staring at the dark skinned Sith Lord standing there. "And you are?"

As he watched, his grey-red face impassive, the Sith sneered. "I am Overseer Tremel. And you will respect my title and position."

Shreave raised one eyebrow, his facial protrusions adjusting accordingly, and said calmly, "I only respect those who earn it. Now, what must I do to be Sith."

The question was more of a demand, and Tremel glared, reaching out his hand. Shreave grunted as invisible fingers closed around his throat, and he threw out his own hand, causing Tremel to grunt and take a step back. The blow, however, did not loosen the choke, and Shreave knelt, gasping for air.

"My Lord." Sheave said, gulping in air as the pressure vanished.

Tremel nodded shortly, and said, "You are strong. But you could be stronger, and must be if you want to survive Korriban's nights." Shreave glanced up questioningly, and Tremel nodded. "There are many Acolytes here at the Academy. And many of them want your position as Baras' future apprentice."

Shreave sneered, and said, "Then I'll crush them where they stand! None will dare stand against me."

Once again Tremel snorted. "Many have been here longer. Made allies, trained, and even gained the loyalty of Lords. Admittedly, there are few that have a Lord's loyalty before rising to that title themselves. Vemrin, however, is an exception."

Shreave stood, and asked, "Vemrin, My Lord?"

"He is the current favorite for Baras' apprenticeship. You must eliminate him, but not now. Vemrin is too powerful for you at the moment."

Aside from a disgusted snort at the comment, Shreave accepted it, and asked, "Then teach me. Make me strong enough to kill that huttspawn."

"That has been my plan all along, Acolyte. Deep in the tomb of Ajunta Pall, there is an ancient armory. You will enter the tomb, retrieve the blade, and report to me in the Academy itself. I will be awaiting you. Oh, and while you're at it, please deal with any issues you come across in the tomb."

Shreave nodded shortly, and watched as Tremel left. He stroked the two slightly hooked protrusions on his chin, idly wondering, once again, what it would be like to have the scruffy looking hair that humans called beards. Shrugging it off, he shook his head to clear it before walking away from the landing pad he'd recently arrived on.

Stepping out of the mini spaceport, Shreave glanced at the other new arrival, an admittedly rather attractive looking female. Human, but he had done his best not to allow his own parent's prejudice towards anyone not pure to cloud his mind.

As he stepped off of the last step, he noticed a number of bloated worms writhing around, massively fanged mouths sucking in air, and flailing around with their sharp bladed arms. "Revolting," he muttered, drawing his own training saber.

Not as elegant or as effective as either a vibroblade or a lightsaber, the blade was by no means useless. Running forwards, he spun the blade to rip through the soft belly of the first K'lorr'slug before stabbing a second and bisecting a third. They fell, their guts slopping across the dry sand, the foul stench rising to assault his nose. Stepping back, he grimaced as his heel landed on one of them, coating his heal with odd greyish green blood.

"Very smooth." The girl was standing there, completely clean, with a trail of dead K'lorr'slugs sprawled across the desert. Stepping nimbly down the sandy bank, she slid her blade back into the straps on her back. Quickly adjusting her hair, swiping a stray strand away from her face, she gave Shreave a calm look, then, throwing her hand out, sent a few precisely aimed tendrils of electricity into a K'lorr'slug that was passing too near. With a dying screech, the beast collapsed, and with a single stab she finished it off.

"A little fancier, but not really my style." Shreave said, flicking some blood off with a single quick motion and hen sheathing his training blade. Stepping forwards, he held out his hand. "Shreave. I just got here from Ziost."

The girl smiled, and took his hand. "Zalia." Noticing her lack of information as to where she was before Korriban, Shreave decided to drop that subject. Her hand weren't the soft and tender ones that all the Sith ladies he'd met. Rather, they were rough, and with a strength that didn't seem to match her appearance. He mind running through likely scenarios, the one he stopped at was once that made the most sense to him. Zalia wasn't a Sith trainee in the sense that he was, she was still only trying to prove that she wasn't worthless. When one is a former slave, it takes a long time to gain any respect.

Nodding at her, Shreave spun, letting go of her hand and drawing his blade in a single smooth motion. The blow carved into a slug, and a quick side jump let him sail over the next. Turning, he drove the blade into the back of the next beast, and then ran for another. Even as he reached the beast, it jerked away, and he stumbled. Rolling away, he evaded the claws and teeth, then his foot hit a rock. In an attempt to use it to launch at the beast, the rock rolled away, sending him crashing to the sand again. He looked up to see it's right claw raised, ready to swing down and decapitate him.

The Slug screeched, it's entire body quivering and straightening convulsively as it's body was infused with electricity. Shreave scrambled up, and cut down the dying slug. "Thanks." He said, irritated at himself for his weakness, and disgusted by his own clumsiness.

"I suppose that means you owe me one." Zalia smiled, and reached out to brush some sand off of his shoulder. Shreave grunted irritably, and violently shook the sand out of his crimson hair. "I hate this place." She said, glancing down at her dust coated clothes.

"As do I." Shreave said, shaking his pants and boots off. The dust and sand fell off, and he looked up to see Zalia letting down her black hair out of it's current arrangement, and shaking some dirt out of it. Instead of putting it back up, Zalia merely pulled it back into a loose braid. Realizing that he was slightly staring, Shreave turned, ostensibly to watch for more slugs.

"So where are you headed now?" He glanced up, and shrugged.

"The wonderful and glorious tomb of Ajunta Pall. A beautiful symbol of Sith power." Shreave said, gesturing towards the crumbling monument that was decaying in the harsh sun and torn by the shredding sandstorms that blanketed the planet every so often.

Zalia gave him an odd look, and said, "If you say so..." Shreave chuckled, and started towards it, twirling his training blade casually and whistling. "You know, this is important, Sheaf." She snapped, glaring at the cocky Pureblood. He laughed, loudly and deeply.

"Sheaf? Nicknames already Zalia?" He said, grinning widely.

"That's your name, isn't it?" She asked, wincing slightly, a holdout from her slave days.

He smirked, and said, "Shreave, Zal. Shreave. But if you like Sheaf, then by all means..."

She glared slightly. "I never gave you permission to call me Zal." She almost spat the nickname out, and he smirked slightly

"Hey, I never gave you permission to call me Sheaf! Fair's Fair." He said, now walking backwards to keep an eye on the rather attractive blush coloring her cheeks.

"Shreave!" She snapped, followed by a gasp as his foot landed on the top step. Falling backwards, he pushed off, hoping to rotate fully to land on his feet. He half succeeded, landing hard on his knees across two steps.

He smirked up, with arms spread wide in triumph. "And Shreave emerges with dignity intact!" He said, wide grin belying the pain shooting through his legs. Then he smiled. "Were you concerned? Not very Sithy of you."

She sneered. "First? Your dignity was lost long ago. Second? I just don't want a murder on my record this early." He smiled easily. "Believe what you will, Zal. You care."

She glared. Then her hand shot forwards, arcing streams of purple lightning dancing towards him. He started to move, when it connected with something behind him. The shriek of a pained and dying K'lorr'slug caused him to spin, lashing out low, in time to bisect a rather carnivorous larva.

He saw a second pair scuttling forwards, and hurled himself forwards, slashing the stinking guts out of the first, spinning to halve the second one. He turned, smiling at Zalia triumphantly. His face fell as he saw her fourth slug burst as lightning overloaded it.

She smiled, asking "Something you wanted to brag about?"

He sniffed pretentiously. "Your form was off."

She snorted. "You are a warrior. I'm an inquisitor. Totally different. And you're an idiot. Also a difference."

"I'm tougher. I've got better gear. Also a difference."

"I'm better looking." She snapped, and he replied, "Very true. You have me there. I've got a cybernetic implant, so, more effective!"

"Far smarter than you, Pretty boy."

He smiled at that. "Aw, you think I'm pretty?"

She smacked his chest irritably. "Oh grow up."

He smirked. "I'm already way taller than you. You really want me to grow?" She rolled her eyes, and stomped off in a huff. She slashed through an exceptionally stupid slug, and then fried it's equally idiotic partners.

"That attitude won't make many friends!" He called to her retreating form.

"I'm Sith!" She snapped back, and he laughed.

"Not yet, Zal. Not yet." She took half a second to glare at him, before disappearing around the corner deeper into the tomb.

With a sigh, he jogged after her. "She has no idea how to make it around here." He muttered. "Everyone needs allies."


	2. The Tomb of Ajunta Pall

Zalia Bronwyn sighed, hearing heavy boots clattering down the steps after her.

"You know, you're going to need allies, Zal. Not that you're not tough, but there are always going to be stronger Sith out there." The gravelly voice of the Sith Pureblood said, with a trace of a smile in the voice.

She spun, and snapped, "Quit following me, Shreave, don't call me Zal, and I can do this myself!"

He smirked, and shrugged, saying, "I'll have your back, if you watch mine, that's all I'm saying."

Shooting him a final glare, Zalia stormed away, her blade and force lightning leaving a trail of dead K'lorr'slugs behind.

She didn't hear him following her, and smirked coldly. That friendly fool wouldn't last an hour inside the academy.

Smiling grimly, she raised her hands, and let out a stream of purple energy, catching a charging tomb raider in the chest, and lifting him off his feet.

His two allies started forwards, but she blasted one with a sharp shock, and charged the other, the tip of her blade slashing out the robber's throat, before driving it through the chest of the other twitching man.

Striding quickly through the crumbling monument, she left both slugs and criminals sprawled through the halls in various states of death or maiming.

Arriving at the entrance to the chamber Spindrall had claimed as his own, the young lady paused, taking a deep breath, and steeling herself for the trial that awaited her.

Striding into the room, she saw a lowered room, with half a dozen acolytes meditating or dueling in the center.

Across the room, a withered old man stood, hunched, yet radiating power and confidence.

Stepping delicately down the stairs, Zalia made her way across the room, feeling the eyes of the other acolytes on her.

Spindrall took a single step forwards as the inquisitor reached the top step.

His voice was a dry rasp, yet far stronger than his frail frame implied. "Another acolyte. Good. Come to get my approval, yes? To give to your Master, yes. Tell me, why have you come to these tombs?"

"Fresh air, mostly. And a chance to stretch my legs." Shreave's mocking voice caused her to spin around angrily.

"Get the Hell out, Shreave!" She yelled, anger rising within her, and she felt electricity crackling around her hands.

The Pureblood raised his hands in a conciliatory way, winking at her with a smirk, and backed out of the door, disappearing into the tunnels beyond.

"You have great power, and hate, that is good, but not enough." Spindrall's crackling voice snapped her back to the present, and she turned back to him.

"What must I do, My Lord?" She asked, and he repeated his question.

She shrugged. "Harkun sent me, though I won't deny the power that once resided in these stones calls to me."

Spindrall nodded, and said, "Good. Power and rage alone are not enough, Acolyte. You must know the Sith Code. Memorize it, live by it."

She nodded, and his rasp began, turning into a near thunderous roar by the end.

"Peace is a lie, there is only Passion. Through Passion, I gain Strength. Through Strength, I gain Power. Through Power, I gain Victory. Through Victory, my Chains are Broken. The Force Shall Free me. Know this, Acolyte. No Sith Lord who has ever rose to greatness did so without this Code."

Zalia nodded quietly, repeating it in her mind. _Peace, Passion, Strength, Power, Victory, Broken Chains._

"I see, My Lord." She bowed, but Spindrall raised his hand.

"You trial is just beginning, young Acolyte. Do you see these other trainees? They all desire to be Sith. Each one of them arrive with Passion, with Strength, with Power. But Victory? No."

Zalia looked over the other acolytes, each one a formidable opponent, some muscled, and training to be warriors, others slight, and training to be inquisitors.

She began to walk towards them, and Spindrall said, "You all desire to be Sith, but only one of you will gain my seal. Any who wish to turn back may leave this chamber. Those who stay, will almost assuredly die, save for one lucky contender."

The seven Acolytes glanced at each other, Zalia recognizing a crimson Twi'lek from Harkun's group.

"No takers. Then let us begin." Spindrall said, and Zalia instantly blasted the nearest fighter with lightning, dropping his smoking body to the stone floor.

Driving her blade through the next one's neck, she saw the Twi'lek smiling wildly as he ripped another Acolyte open from crotch to neck, blade opening him up like a surgeon's model.

The other two acolytes were dead, and they turned to each other, blades raised.

The Twi'lek lunged forwards, his blade whirling in a blindingly fast up-down series of strikes that drove her back, before she let loose with a powerful burst of Force lightning.

He stumbled back, and she shot forwards, thrusting and slashing, accentuated by a few well timed shocks.

Zalia pressed in, but the other Acolyte rallied, his saber technique far more advanced, though his shocks were more easily absorbed.

Finally, Zalia lashed out with the Force, throwing the other Acolyte against a wall, viciously slashing his right arm midway above the elbow, and then hitting him in the head with her hilt.

Kneeling over his unconscious body, she quickly wrapped a bandage tightly above the wound, preventing him from bleeding out while she finished with Spindrall.

He moaned slightly, and Zalia bent over and hissed into his ear, "I own you know, red-skin."

Seeing her rise from the body, Spindrall nodded, and said, "Excellent. It appears your desire was greater than theirs, and their blood became the mantle of your victory. But you are not Sith yet."

Zalia nodded in acceptance, knowing her place, but resenting in all the same.

"Remember the Code, Acolyte, and take your injured servant with you." Spindrall said, handing her a tablet, engraved, with deep scorch marks on its surface.

Zalia's head whipped up, and Spindrall, if her could have, would have smiled slightly.

"A fighter like that is not to be discarded lightly, Young Acolyte. And now he owes you his life. While Twi'leks do not believe in the Life debts of the lesser species, like Wookies, they do have a strict code of honor, and now, you are the only way for him to claim power, with his position as Acolyte revoked."

Zalia studied the old Sith suspiciously. "And how do I know he won't stab me in my sleep?"

Spindrall shrugged. "You do not. But he is a clever man, whether he shows it or not, and being your ally is better than a life of fear hiding in a tomb."

Zalia glanced around unconsciously, then her gaze returned to Spindrall, who was glaring.

"Go. Return to Harkun, and nurture you hatred for him. And use your fear of him to grow stronger. He may raise him fist to strike, but it is Lord Zash who determines where the blow strikes."

Zalia thought about this for a second, beginning to turn, then smiled faintly.

"But who controls Zash, I wonder?"

Spindrall nodded approvingly. "When you have the answer to that, you will have power over both your Masters."

Turning abruptly, Spindrall made a shooing gesture. "Now go. Leave me to my rest."

Bowing slightly, Zalia turned, making her way quickly down the staircase, and hauling the badly wounded Twi'lek to his feet.

He groaned, but Zalia merely pulled him along, his feet barely stumbling along fast enough to keep up, even though she was supporting ninety percent of his weight.

Leaving Spindrall's chamber, she heard a chuckle.

"You ditch me, and pick up some psychopathic cripple?" Shreave asked, his ever present smirk irritating her more than usual.

"You watch my back, I'll watch yours, huh?" she asked, and he nodded.

"Then carry the dead weight." Pushing the Twi'lek at Shreave, the Pureblood caught him, then pulled him over his broad shoulders.

"Lead the way, Zal. I'm relying on you to kill everything, so don't let me down, okay?"

She shot him a frosty glare, and his flirty wink left it a few dozen degrees colder.

The two began the long hike through the rest of the tomb, the massive Pureblood hauling the unconscious Twi'lek, while Zalia used Shreave's ancient war blade and her own mastery of the Force to slaughter every K'lorr'slug that writhed across their path.

"There it is!" She called back, and Shreave stumbled up to her a second later, looking at the massive staircase between them and daylight.

"Give me…. A moment…." He panted, lowering the Twi'lek to the ground for a brief respite.

"What? A little Twi'lek to heavy for a big, muscly guy like you?" Zalia asked, raising a mocking eyebrow.

"Well, you know, three hours is too long for carrying that much dead weight!" Shreave said, stretching out his back with a pop.

"Wimp." She sneered, and began up the stairs.

Shreave hoisted the Twi'lek back onto his shoulders with a grunt, before following her up, as the sun sank enough to burn a path down the stairwell.

 **Due to a desire to keep the characters interacting and together(ish), Not every moment of the class stories will be covered, Instead, the story will move linearly, and pick up where the previous chapter left off, skipping any missed missions. Also, the POVs will alternate, with the eight main heroes taking the lead on different planets.**


	3. The Academy

Shreave Rhell gently lowered the Twi'lek to the bed the Imperial medic had pointed him to, then glared at Zalia, who'd spent the last five minutes cleaning out her nails.

"We done?" He asked, breathing a little more heavily than he would have liked.

She nodded, smiling slightly at him, before groaning and placing his ancient war blade back in his outstretched hand.

"Fine." She said, before spinning to the medic, demanding, "Let me know when he's awake. I'm going to bed, but here's my comm number."

The medic took the number down, and nodded briefly to her, before the two left the infirmary.

"You have to report to your overseer tomorrow?" Shreave asked, glancing at his chrono.

"Yeah. He hates me, though he seemed to like that Twi'lek fine. Apparently their simple minds and bloodthirsty natures are just similar enough. You?"

He nodded, adding, "Tremel's not bad. A bit formal, but so what? Want some help with your idiot?"

She shrugged, then froze, and looked at him. "You're perfect, you know that?" She asked, smiling excitedly.

Shreave chuckled, spreading his arms, and saying, "That's what I've been trying to tell you, Zal! You just never listen!"

She smacked him hard in the stomach, and he coughed slightly, before rubbing his sore gut.

"Not that, nerf brain, you're a Pureblood! Harkun loves you guys!"

Shreave chuckled, and said, "I doubt he'd appreciate my input."

She shrugged, and said, "As long as I have a Pureblood ally, I'm better than the rest of that rabble."

"Let's go impress Harkun, then." Shreave said, cheerfully smiling, and setting off at a jaunty pace.

"Tomorrow, Shreave." Zalia reminded him, and Shreave sighed.

"I always have to put off my fun." He muttered, but Zalia was gone, vanishing up the stone staircase to the second story.

Shreave woke early, with a message from Tremel demanding his presence as soon as he awoke.

Groaning, he shoved his comm into his pocket, quickly leaving the uncomfortable sleeping quarters to meet Zalia.

The inquisitor was waiting outside, tapping her foot impatiently, and Shreave smirked.

"Ready to impress your Harkun?" He asked with a smirk, and she sighed.

"I've been waiting for hours! You slept in!"

He shrugged. "Us handsome types have to get our beauty sleep."

"Acolyte!" A pair of voices called, and both turned around, just in time to see two overseers heading their way, one a Pureblood woman with a regal bearing, the other a snobby looking human male.

Pointing at Shreave, the Pureblood gestured for him to follow her, as he saw the man doing the same to Zalia.

"I am Assistant Overseer Loun. And I bring a message." She said, raising a hand to stop Shreave once she judged that they were far enough away from the others.

"Overseer Tremel may teach you the Sith way, bur he will be unable to teach you all of the skills. For that, there are specialists within the academy. Tremel wishes you to learn from them, and train with them."

Shreave raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. "You look good, for a Sith. Most of you powerful types are all dried out."

Loun shot him a faint glare, smiling slightly at the praise. "Maybe. But no Sith would ever lower herself to an Acolytes level, Sith blood or not."

Shreave smirked, and said "Keep telling yourself that, Loun. I'll see you around!"

He strode off, heading for where Zalia was glaring daggers at the Overseer talking to her.

"I'm fluttering with fear, just fluttering, really." The young man was saying, sarcasm dripping off of each syllable.

"Like a butterfly or your average bird?" Shreave growled at the Sith's ear, and the man jerked around in shock.

"Careful, Overseer. You're looking at a Pureblood with deep connections." Shreave snarled, and the man bowed slightly, before sneering at both of them, and leaving with his nose in the air.

Zalia gave him a look, and he shrugged. "One of my relatives is overseeing the mines on Kessel. He's pretty deep, I guess."

She snorted, and said, "One of these days, someone's going to push the issue, and I won't be there to help you."

"Harkun awaits, Zal. We best not keep him waiting." he said, and she turned, striding away quickly.

Following her, he found himself going through the massive corridors of the academy, until they turned into the small entrance of Harkun's training room.

As Zalia walked into the room, Shreave leaned against the doorway, studying the group of slaves.

"Ah, the last one. Always the latecomer. Now, let's see what the hermit thinks of you all." Harkun snarled, his sharp, mocking tone a serrated knife across the eardrum.

Shreave watched as he shuffled through the tablets, shattering each one after he alone read it.

"Hmph, barely passable, even according to that lunatic. Acolyte Kory, step forwards." His gaze flicked across the acolytes, stopping on a young girl with a vicious scar across the side of her face.

She stepped forwards timidly, looking terrified. "Yes, overseer?"

Harkun almost grinned, a feral look that passed for a moment as he spat, "You are a weak, pathetic worm, and even a useless old fool like Spindrall can see that. And that means…."

He smiled, teeth bared, and threw his hand out, the tendrils of his Force Lightning wrapping around the unfortunate acolyte, and leaving her collapsed dead on the ground.

The other slaves actually took a few steps back, though Zalia was unmoving, eyes locked with Harkun, and a sneer on her lips.

A large man, almost shaking with fear stammered, "You-you k-killed her!"

Harkun seemed to feed off their fear, his look of joy growing. "And let it be a lesson to the rest of you filth. Anyone have any objections?"

His gaze flicked to each in turn, death crackling behind his eyes. One by one, the Acolytes shook their heads in denial, until he reached the Sith Pureblood at the back of the group.

His eyes widened slightly, before flicking to Zalia, daring her to question him.

"If you're so insecure that you need to kill acolytes to feel tough, Harkun, then you need to get out of the academy once in a while." She sneered.

Harkun began to raise a hand, only to see the Pureblood step forwards menacingly, and lowered his hand.

"Watch yourself, slave, or you'll be next." Harkun snarled, but then turned, looking at someone behind Shreave.

He felt himself pushed aside as another Pureblood stalked past, graceful and catlike, though taut as a bowstring.

"Meet Ffon Althe. This is real Sith strength, and he will tear you apart and crush your bones, slaves. He will be Lord Zash's new apprentice, not useless refuse like you lot."

Zalia looked the Sith over, and shrugged faintly. "Let's see how tough his is alone, out in the tombs, with just me and my blade for company."

Ffon curled a lip, growling slightly, with his hand going for his weapon. "Let's go, slave!"

Harkun grabbed his favorite's arm, hissing, "She's not worth it, Ffon. Slave, get over here, I must talk to you. The rest of you, get out! You know your trials. Ffon, Spindrall awaits."

The rest of the acolytes fled as quickly as possible, though Ffon left slowly, watching Zalia with a taunting look in his eye.

Shreave remained, moving to stand a Zalia's shoulder, one pointed brow raised challengingly.

"Get out, Acolyte. Your toy will be out soon." Harkun said, glaring at Shreave, but with a faint look of nervousness.

"Unharmed." Shreave said, his voice dead, and Harkun nodded.

Zalia glared at him angrily, but he shook his head slightly. _Don't question it, please._ He mentally begged her, and to his relief, she didn't say anything.

"Meet me in the training room once you're done, Zal." He said imperiously, and Harkun nodded approvingly.

Sighing irritably, Zalia turned back to Harkun, and Shreave walked out, without glancing back, though he heard Harkun start to snarl angrily at her response to a question he missed.

He chuckled, before heading to his own meeting with Overseer Tremel. Hopefully his Master wasn't too angry over the wait.

Turning the corner, he saw two men blocking the corridor, one a big, dumb looking brute, the other a lean, muscular young man.

The smaller one looked up as he walked by, and pulled him back.

"Here we go, Dolgis. Looks like we've found Tremel's secret weapon. Impressive, I'll admit, but you're too late."

Shreave rolled his eyes at the man's words, saying, "I suppose that makes you Vermin."

"Vemrin!" He snarled, his eyes burning with hate, and Shreave shrugged.

"Whatever. Now, get out of my face." Pushing past Vemrin, he found himself slammed into the wall by the brute, who snapped, "You'll show respect, boy. He'll be Lord Vemrin soon, so get use to it!"

"Easy, Dolgis. Our new friend just got off the shuttle, he's exhausted. Let him get his bearings."

Vemrin smiled, looking a bit like a shark. "Unlike you, I fought for everything I have, and you will show me respect."

Shreave shrugged, and said, "Just get out of my face, both of you. Back off!" He shoved them both back.

Vemrin glared at him, saying, "Believe it or not, I'm trying to save your life! If you had gotten here a year ago, you might have had a chance. As it is, you're too little too late."

Shreave laughed, saying, "Scared, Vemrin? If you're really that far ahead, then you'd be guaranteed the position, and you wouldn't even worry about me. You just marked me as your equal, Vem, so watch out."

Vemrin's fists clenched tightly, and he said in clipped tones, "Believe me, if it were allowed, you'd already be dead, Shreave."

Dolgis growled, a deep low sound, and he said, "Come on Vemrin, let's jus' kill 'em."

Vemrin sighed, saying, "We're not on Balmorra anymore, Dolgis, there are rules here. We'll leave the cheating and shortcuts to Tremel and his pathetic last hope here."

Shreave smirked, and said, "You're not very good with people, are you?"

"You're not funny, just pathetic." Vemrin said, glaring daggers at Shreave, who looked completely relaxed.

"Uh huh. That's cool." Shreave said, studying his nails. "Hmm…. Should probably take care of this..."

He bit at the hangnail, and Vemrin let out a frustrated snort. "Come on, Dolgis. Leave the idiot. He'll die soon enough."

With a last glower at Shreave, Dolgis followed, with one final thing to say.

"Remember, it isn't murder without witnesses, Shreave."

Shreave chuckled faintly, and continued towards Tremel's chambers.


	4. Prisons

Zalia Bronwyn stormed out of Harkun's sight, her hatred of that man radiating out in waves.

So what if she'd been a slave? She wasn't anymore!

Muttering vindictively to herself, she almost missed her comm beeping.

"Zalia." She said, hoping it was something good.

"Acolyte Zalia, your patient is awake, restrained, and sedated. Please come soon." The medic's voice was hoarse, and he coughed before hanging up with a click.

Raising a curious eyebrow at the device, she shrugged, shoving it into her pocket.

Shreave could wait, and it wouldn't kill him. Assuming that he'd be meeting with his overseer as well, she would have had to wait, so screw him.

Walking quickly to the medcenter, she arrived to find the medic from the night before massaging his throat, which looked severely bruised.

The other nearby medics were all in various states of mild injury as well, bruised and bleeding.

"What happened here?" She demanded, and the medic coughed slightly, before croaking, "Your Twi'lek friend dislikes his current state."

Brushing past them into the room with the Twi'lek, she saw him strapped to the table, nearly a dozen straps across each limb, and doubled across his chest.

His right arm was gone, replaced with a cybernetic limb, and his head wrapped with a bloody bandage.

Raising the table to near vertical, Zalia quickly untied most of the straps holding him down, calling to the medics to close and lock the door.

Switching off the machines that kept him sedated, she stood a dozen feet away, directly in front of him.

His head dropped forwards, and a second later, he groaned, attempting to move his mechanical arm, though she'd left most of the straps holding it down in place.

"Hello, redskin." She said, the deep red Twi'lek snarling at her.

"My name is Eryon Massarde, woman. Learn it." The Twi'lek spat, and Zalia smiled faintly.

"You should treat you Master with more respect, Slave." She said, drawing out the final word mockingly.

Eryon lunged forwards, pointed teeth bared, though the restraints held him down.

"I beat you, Eyron. You are less than nothing to everyone here." She explained, and the Twi'lek growled angrily.

"You are an acolyte, nothing more!" He snarled, thrashing powerfully in the restraints, which were quickly coming undone.

"What does that make you?" Zalia asked mildly, and Eryon froze.

"I saved your life. I took your titles. I own you, Twi'lek, and no one will raise a finger to save you." She said, her nose an inch from his pointed one, and his violet eyes widened in horror.

"But, I was free…." He almost whispered, before his snarl came back. "And by beating you, I will be again."

Ripping his arms forwards, and tearing frantically at the ones around his legs, Eryon pulled free, glowering at her.

She raised a single hand, slamming him back into the wall, before sending a writhing mass of lightning into his chest.

He screeched in pain, before dropping to his knees.

Seeing him attempting to rise, Zalia raised her other hand, driving him to the ground.

Gritting his teeth in impotent fury, he ground out his surrender, though it apparently physically hurt to do so.

"M… Master. I yield." He gasped, and Zalia smiled.

"Good. You will serve me, and you will obey me." Eryon jerked his head angrily, but nodded.

"Follow me." Zalia said, turning her back on the furious Twi'lek, and leaving the room.

She felt his sudden flare in the force, and turned, her hand coming up, and matching his Force Lightning jolt for jolt, before pushing the collision point back towards him.

He gave ground, and, as it reached him, let out a horrible cry of pain.

Seeing him crumpled on the ground, Zalia shrugged. "Come to the training grounds when your tantrum is over, Eryon."

She left the Twi'lek huddled in the med center, and strode easily past the terrified medics.

Quickly trotting up the stairs, she found the massive Pureblood lounging out front of the training room.

"How's the wait, Shreave?" She asked, and he curled his lip mockingly.

" _How's the wait_ _?_ Where were you Zal?"

She smiled slightly, and said, "I had to go visit Eryon. He's heading up once he's done pouting."

"That bad tempered Twi'lek? Oh joy." Shreave said, grimacing, but she shrugged.

"He's powerful, Shreave. Don't underestimate him. What did your overseer want?"

His gaze darkened again, and he said, "I've got to judge some prisoners, probably murder most of them."

She sighed, and said, "I'm supposed to torture another acolyte until he breaks. Fun times, right?"

Shreave chuckled dryly, and said, "Wonder if Psycho will do it for you?"

She shuddered, then shook her head sharply. "We're training to be Sith, Shreave. We'll have to do far worse to far better people in the future. Better get used to it now."

Shreave looked a little sick, and muttered, "Hope I never do, to be honest."

She patted his arm slightly, and turned to see Eryon striding towards her, wearing the pair of shredded pants he'd been wearing in the tomb, but without a shirt.

"No shirt, Eryon?" She asked, looking at him curiously.

"Kriffing medics cut it to ribbons." He grunted, and then said, "They also said I had no weapons."

"Ah. Right. Back in- Huh…." She muttered, thinking quickly.

"You can use my old blade." Shreave offered, and she looked up in surprise. "My shirts are going to be too big, but you can use them if you want."

Eryon glanced at the large Pureblood, curling a lip. "What will I have to do? What will I owe you?"

Shreave looked surprised. "You former slaves are all so twitchy and suspicious! I'm just being friendly!"

Zalia laughed, and said, "Shreave, no one gives anything for free around here. You are the strange one, not us."

He shrugged, and said, "Take it or leave it, Eryon. Your choice."

With muttered growls of rebellion, the Twi'lek followed Shreave up to his bunk, though he only took the weapon.

When they'd returned, Zalia led the way into the prison block, moving towards the back room, towards the horrible screaming, followed by a happier looking Eryon, while Shreave said, "I'll just wait for you, if you don't mind."

Rolling her eyes at the Marauder's squeamishness, Zalia stepped into a back room, where a obese, tattooed Sith stood contemplating a bruised and terrified acolyte.

"Ah, you must be Harkun's acolyte. I'm Inquisitor Zyn. Harkun gave me very specific instructions for you."

Rolling her eyes, Zalia muttered, "Of course he did."

Ignoring her interruption, Zyn continued. "You may have once been a slave, but you must discard those traits, and learn to control others. And I have a fitting task. Meet your victim, Alif."

Zalia curled her lip slightly, and said, "Honestly, I dislike the term 'victim', inquisitor."

The man gave a long-suffering sigh, and replied, "I do as well, acolyte. I much prefer the term 'subject', but some cannot comprehend my work in anything but the crassest terms."

He shot a judgmental look at Eryon, who was studying Alif with a hungry, wolfish look in his eye.

"A short while ago, there was a murder, here at the Academy. An apprentice struck down another without reason, and we must find out who. Alif here saw the whole thing. Do what you must, acolyte. Torture, whatever you must, but get that name."

"Must I torture him, Inquisitor? May there not be a better way?" Zalia asked, drawing a disgusted look from Eryon.

Zyn let out a deep sigh. "Already, you are a disappointment to me, but Harkun made no mention of torture being a requirement, so I suppose not."

Nodding thankfully, Zalia moved over to the twitchy apprentice.

"N-no! Please… No more…. Don't hurt me!" Alif stammered, shivering in fear.

"It's fine, Alif. I'm not here to hurt you. I just want to talk." Zalia said, staring deep into the Acolyte's eyes.

His blue eyes widened, then narrowed in suspicion. "Why should I trust you?"

"Alif, I just want to help you. If you work with me, then you'll be free and whole. If you don't…." She quietly gestured to Eryon, who was going over the finer points of lightning torture with Zyn.

Alif shuddered, and said, "If I say anything, I'll die, or worse!"

Zalia grimaced, motioning to Eryon again, and said, "Worse is here anyways, Alif. Trust me, please."

The injured acolyte sighed, shaking his head. "They really did pull you out of the slave pens, didn't they. You're nothing like any of the Sith I've ever met."

She smiled slightly. "You should meet Shreave. He practically offered the clothes off his back to Eryon there, just to be nice."

Alif stared, and said, "I'll tell you, just please, promise me you'll get justice. Don't let them kill me."

Zalia nodded, and said, "I'll do all I can, Alif. Who was it?"

"Essor Kayin. He's some high-and-mighty apprentice. I saw him kill the other acolyte outside the library on the second floor. His Master… I think he's on the Dark Council. Kayin won't be punished, and he'll hunt me down and kill me."

Alif looked more terrified than ever, and Zalia gave him a reassuring smile. "Let us worry about that, Alif."

"I hope you know what you're doing," Alif muttered, and Zalia patted him on the shoulder before rising to speak to Zyn.

Zyn sounded regretful, and before she could speak, said, "I heard the name, though I sorely wish I hadn't. Essor Kayin. His Master… I won't oppose him. Your trial is over. Return to Harkun, with my seal of approval."

"What about Alif?" She asked, looking curiously at Zyn.

Zyn narrowed his eyes at her, and said, "Concern for matters that are none of your business is a weakness that will get you killed. I suggest you remove that trait quickly, acolyte."

Zalia shrugged. "At least smuggle him out of the academy. In the wilds, he may be able to hop a shuttle. Here, he's a sitting duck for Kayin."

Zyn rubbed his chin thoughtfully, and nodded slowly. "Yes, yes. That could work. He'd no longer be Sith, but he'd be alive, which I suppose is enough for some."

Zalia nodded thankfully, and said, "Thank you, Inquisitor. Eryon, let's go."

The Twi'lek pulled back from Alif, whom he'd been terrifying for fun, and followed her without complaint, though his mutinous expression remained.

Shreave was waiting, and as they emerged, walked over to Zalia.

"How bad was it?" He asked, and Eryon sneered, "She didn't even touch the coward. She just talked to him, and then he told her the name. You'll never be Sith with an attitude like that."

Shreave smiled, and pulled her into a one armed hug. "I'm so proud of you Zal."

"Get off me, you giant idiot!" She snapped, tossing his arm off, and heading into his room, a secondary holding cell block with only a couple cells.

Shreave cut her off, entering first, and motioning for them to back off a little.

"One more chirp from you, little bird, and you'll regret it." A deep voice was saying as the three entered the room.

The man was staring at a young blue Twi'lek, who had a formidable looking shock collar on.

With a cheerful smile, she said, "Chirp, chirp chip!"

Chuckling grimly, the jailer pressed the activation button on his remote, and the collar crackled to life, causing the Twi'lek to cry out.

Shreave growled low in his throat, and took a step forwards, pausing as the Twi'lek regained the power of speech.

"Ow, jerk! If you didn't like that, just say so! I can do other animals too. Dire-cat, frog-dog, Kowakian monkey-lizard. You name it!"

Shreave chuckled, and said, "I'd like to hear an angry Nexu."

The Twi'lek looked up, smiling slightly, as the jailor turned with a glare.

"Don't encourage her. I'm Jailer Knash, and I run these cells and the slave pits. You're the acolyte Tremel sent, hm? He thinks highly of you."

Shreave nodded in thanks, and Knash gestured to the cells. "Let's get started."


	5. Judgement

Shreave Rhell strode quickly down the hall into Tremel's room.

As he walked in, he saw another apprentice walking out, slightly pale.

"Finally. The other Lords interruptions have been utterly intolerable, recently." Tremel muttered the last part mostly to himself.

"Overseer. The prisoners have been dealt with." Shreave said, mashing his regret down.

"Good. Now, let's examine your decisions in the jails." Tremel grabbed his datapad, quickly tapping to pull up Knash's report.

"First up… The Assassin, Solentz. Attempted to murder an Imperial spy, but was unaware of her client's affiliations." Tremel read, then looked up at Shreave.

"Never waste a potential resource." Shreave said, with more confidence than he felt.

Tremel nodded approvingly. "Excellent thinking. The second, Devotek, the former warrior. He wanted combat, and you granted it. Why?"

Shreave thought fast, and said, "Dual reasons, overseer. One, in honor of his past service." Tremel shook his head slightly, but Shreave continued. "Two, it gave me practice fighting a real warrior, not the useless trash that fill the tomb of Ajunta Pall."

Tremel studied him for a moment, then shrugged. "That sentimentality makes you weak, though you had an understandable motive. Darth Baras, however, will not tolerate that level of wasted energy."

Shreave just nodded, waiting for Tremel to get to the forger.

"The forger, Brehg. You set him free. Explain your decision." Shreave winced slightly, noting the cold disapproval in his Master's voice.

"I did not set him free, overseer, in that sense. I set him free from the Jail, though he is still on planet, with the knowledge that should he try to leave, he will be cut down. He is aiding me on an important project. After that, you may do with him as you wish."

Tremel shook his head. "He has knowledge of both this facility, and the one of Dromund Kaas where he'd been held before. He will be killed, once you have no use for him."

Shreave nodded, stamping out the regret. "Of course, Overseer."

"Your decisions as a whole, however, were disappointing. Although you have used them to advance your own agenda, your treatment of both Devotek and the forger were not the decisions Darth Baras would accept."

"My apologies, Overseer. I will strive to do better in the future." Shreave said, bowing his head.

"See that you do. Because I forced you into the Academy ahead of schedule, Darth Baras will be predisposed towards judging you severely. And by severely, I mean fatally. Now, we must hurry for your next trial. Every moment that passes, we risk discovery before we're ready."

Shreave nodded, though his mind flicked over to Zalia and Eryon. He trusted Zal, mostly, but he had no doubt that Eryon would betray the secret the second he heard it.

"In the caverns of Marka Ragnos is the beast he left to guard his legacy. Go, sit among the flames, and let the beast come for you."

Shreave raised an eyebrow, and asked, "And what sort of beast is it, Overseer?"

"It matters not, Acolyte. Slay the beast, and then return to me." Tremel said, turning his back, and leaning over the papers on his desk.

"Oh, and Acolyte? If your see Lord Renning, offer your services. He was practically begging me for more time, and extra help before you arrived, through one of his apprentices."

Shreave nodded, then left his Master going through the massive stack of papers on his desk.

Leaving the academy, Shreave saw Zalia and her servant sitting on the edge of the speeder platform, Zalia looking a little irritable, and Eryon with a look of hatred etched into his face.

"What happened? Eryon stub his toe?" Shreave asked sarcastically, looking concerned, and Zalia rolled her eyes.

"Harkun laughed at him. Told him if I could beat him, then he was more pathetic than even he expected."

Eryon snarled, and spat, "I will _kill_ him, soon."

Shreave nodded sympathetically, and said, "Sure, sure. Harkun's a jerk, but he must be a powerful jerk, to work as a trainer in the main academy here on Korriban."

Zalia nodded. "Harkun's powerful, definitely. And he's got a new pet."

Shreave raised an eyebrow, and she clarified. "Ffon. Pureblood, like you."

Remembering the arrogant, yet well trained Sith, Shreave grimaced. "What's Harkun done now?"

"Well, _Ffon_ has to go to the library and translate texts. _I_ have to release a holocron from it's monument. Which has held it for a thousand years, against even the attempts of Sith Lords." Zalia said, grumbling mutinously.

"Well, I'm sure they're very tough texts. He might drop it on his toe, or get a paper cut transcribing it!" Shreave said, gasping in mock horror.

Zalia chuckled, and said, "You ready to go? Alif will be waiting."

Shreave nodded, hoisting himself up, and holding out a hand to pull Zalia to her feet.

The three acolytes clambered into one of the shuttles, and the droid pilot turned it's head to greet them.

"Greetings, young masters. I hope you've been having an absolutely wonderful day!"

"Shut up." Eryon muttered, staring over the side, waiting for takeoff.

"Right away, Sir. It would be my greatest pleasure." The droid turned back to the controls, and the shuttle rose, then swept past the tomb of Ajunta Pall, heading for the distant canyon that held the tomb of Marka Ragnos.

The trip passed in silence, Shreave spending the time meditating quietly on the promises he'd made before he left.

His family was old-school Sith, what with the racism, slavery, and arrogance, though he'd found the lifestyle, constant assassinations and murders, backstabbing, both literal and figurative, and the rest of the requirements to being a good Sith to be, quite simply, insane.

Their head slave, an elderly Twi'lek, had become rather good friends with Shreave, and the two had had a number of long conversations on the nature of the Sith.

When he'd heard that Shreave was being sent to Korriban, Drekk had asked only one thing of him.

"Remember, Shreave, the Sith way good. Strength, good. Power, good. But the falseness, the cruelty, you do not need to become Sith. Remember. Promise me, Shreave."

Shreave had nodded, had agreed, and believed in his heart that the old Twi'lek knew what he was talking about.

And now, he'd killed an old warrior for his Master, and he'd agreed to kill Brehg.

Bending his head, he rubbed at his temples, and silently whispered, "I'm trying, Drekk. I'm trying."

Sensing his mood, Zalia gave him a comforting pat on the back, before the droid pilot turned, and said, "I hope you had a pleasant flight. I strive to deliver only the best service possible. We will arrive at the Wilds speeder pad in about a minute."

The speeder landed smoothly, and Shreave vaulted out of the front seat, as Zalia and Eryon did the same behind him.

"By the way? Great flight." Shreave said, leaning over to bump the droid's shoulder.

"He's lying." Hissed Eryon, glaring at the droid.

Sheave sighed, and said, "Let's go. We've got an ex-acolyte to meet."

Moving away from the speeder, the three entered the valley, seeing a nervous, and still bruised Alif leaning against the defensive wall.

"Alif, you made it!" Zalia said, smiling at him, and he smiled back, nervously.

"Zyn smuggled me out, and set me in the speeder, told me to go. Then you called and asked me to meet you here. Here I am."

Shreave nodded, reaching out a hand to shake his. "Welcome, Alif. I've heard a lot about you, and I'm currently got an excellent slicer and forger making you a new life. After we get out of here, you'll be off planet, with a whole new ID."

Alif broke into a smile, and said, "Well, that's the first good thing I've heard all day. Zalia was right. You guys are special."

Shreave smirked, and said, "I like to think so."

Zalia rolled her eyes, and Eryon snarled angrily. "I have to put up with another weakling?"

Shreave turned, and said, "Deal, Eryon. Life sucks, you're miserable, we know!"

Eryon's hand went to his vibrosword, where Shreave locked it in, holding the blade in it's sheath. "Don't."

Shreave's dark golden eyes bore into his, and Eryon's flicked away, and he released the sword.

"Good boy." Shreave said, still glaring into Eryon's face.

After the red Twi'lek backed down, Shreave turned away, beginning down the canyon towards the tomb, Eryon mutinously following him.

Zalia and Alif stared, the former surprised at how intimidating he could be, and the later at how fast he'd cowed Eryon.

"I'm sticking with him." Alif said, pointing slightly at Shreave, and Zalia nodded quietly.

As they made their way to the base camp, held by a couple Sith Lords, Shreave got the feeling that they were being watched.

By how twitchy the others had gotten, they were feeling the same.

He began scanning the cliffs, and began to see the shadows, dark, slinking shapes writhing in the caves, until the first started out.

It was a dark grey striped beast, part hound, part panther, and irrevocably twisted and shaped by the dark side.

The first let out a shrieking roar, quickly echoed up and down the valley, and the beasts began stalking their new prey, fanning out to block any attempt at retreat.

Glancing around at the encroaching beasts, Shreave snarled, his own teeth bared, blade out, as behind him, he heard Eryon, Zalia, and Alif drawing their own blades.

"This could have gone better." Zalia murmured, and Shreave grunted in agreement.

"At least the hike isn't boring. I was worrying about that."


	6. The Wilds

Zalia Bronwyn studied the slinking shapes descending the sides of the canyon, focusing her mind on Harkun, and feeling the familiar hate and anger buildup.

Curling the fingers of her left hand, she let fly a bolt of lightning, which caught the nearest Tuk'ata in the face, causing it to fall back with a pained howl.

The others readied themselves as the beasts charged, though she felt the ripples as Eryon lashed tendrils of electricity into the hoard.

Resisting the urge to leap in, Shreave moved quickly to cover Eryon, as a defense both against the attackers, and preventing Eryon from striking down Zalia.

Alif moved over, and Zalia heard him take a position at her side, lunging forwards, meeting a massive Tuk'ata in midair, driving his blade into it's neck.

Zalia raised her hands, ignoring Eryon and Shreave, trusting that the latter would hold their side.

Loosing her power, the purple crackling lightning danced in front of her, catching the beasts as they charged, pushing them back, and holding them at bay.

Alif retreated to her side, standing there, ready and waiting, in case one broke through.

Zalia heard screams and grunts from behind her, but resisted the urge to turn, putting all her focus into the beasts coming at her.

Seconds later, the beasts broke and ran, leaving almost two dozen dead, and many of the others injured or burned.

Zalia turned, panting, and then her vision blurred. Darkness was creeping in from the sides, and as she took a step forwards, her legs gave out.

She was caught by someone, and then the world faded out, with Shreave's voice saying, "It's alright, I got you."

Shreave Rhell caught Zalia as she slumped, her hands smoking, and her entire body appearing slightly charged.

As he touched her robe, he felt a number of static shocks, though he ignored them, lowering her gently to the ground.

Alif was staring in awe, and said, "She- All alone! Except one, all those are hers!"

Eryon looked at him, and said, "You're willing to admit that level of failure, Alif? You _are_ weak."

Alif flipped him off, and as Eryon stepped forwards, Shreave rose to his full height, glaring at the Twi'lek.

"Touch him, and you die, Eryon." Eryon quivered, then stiffened, stepping forwards, nose to nose with Shreave.

"Try me." Eryon sneered, and attempted to push past the Pureblood.

Shreave grabbed him by the throat, and slammed him back and down, his head bouncing on the ground.

"You will not touch any of us, Eryon, or I will shove my saber through your neck."

Eryon nodded, baleful eyes radiating hatred.

Shreave stood up, and said, "Alif, can you carry her?"

The ex-acolyte nodded, and scooped the small woman up, her black hair draped over his arm, almost to his knee.

"Lead the way." Alif said, nodding to Shreave.

The massive Pureblood turned, moving down the valley, carrying both his own blade, and Zalia's.

There were no further attacks, the fearsome Tuk'ata having decided that these prey were too dangerous.

The sun was sinking by the time the four arrived at the outpost, and a couple armored guards jogged out at their approach.

"Halt! Who are you?" The one asked, rifle raised menacingly.

"I'm Shreave Rhell. This is Zalia Bronwyn, Eryon Noonecares, and Alif Heneversaid." Shreave said, smiling broadly.

Eryon snarled angrily, his hand dropping to his saber, while Alif chuckled over his load.

"It's Alif Dorne, Sir," He said, while Eryon contented himself with a growl.

The troopers nodded, and allowed them in. As soon as they had passed within the walls, a crimson laser gate rose, preventing the marauding Tuk'ata from entering.

"Lord Renning holds the fort right now. He's working on something involving those disgusting creatures out there, but I have had no desire to know more." The heavier of the two guards said, gesturing towards the far side of the enclosure, where massive spotlights shone on a very large Sith, and what looked like a dissection table.

Shreave curled a lip, and asked, "Anywhere we can sleep?"

The guard nodded, and took them over to a series of light tents set up in a row.

"This is our barracks. You're welcome to use them, though I can't guarantee the girl her privacy. Does she need a doctor?"

Shreave shook his head, and said, "Just Fore exhaustion. I've seen it a few times before. A good night's rest should cure her."

The soldier nodded, and gestured to the far tent. "You'll have the most privacy there. Can all four of you cram into one?"

Shreave nodded, and the soldier gave a quick salute, striding back towards the gate.

Motioning to Alif, Shreave led the way to the far tent, and the two entered, Alif laying Zalia on the nearest cot, while Shreave lay one of the scratchy blankets over her passed out form.

"Alright, get some rest. We need to be leaving fairly early in the morning."

The others nodded, and Eryon to no one's surprise, took the bunk farthest away from the others.

Groaning, Shreave collapsed onto the cot, reveling in the feeling of laying down after the long day.

"Night." He called, and only Alif answered, with a pleasant "Good Night, Shreave."

Shreave watched the sun rise over the distant cliff that the Academy had been built on.

Quickly pulling his gear together, and straightening his cot, he moved over, nudging Zalia gently.

She moaned softly, pulling the rough blanket up over her head, muttering, "G'way. 'M Tryna sleep."

Shreave chuckled softly, and said, "Very Sithy Zal. That's the kind of thing that strikes fear into the hearts of the Jedi."

Zalia sat up, glaring at him, and snapped, "Like you're any more intimidating when you just wake up."

Shreave shrugged. "I've never woken myself up. If I do, I'll check what the first thing I say is."

She turned away sharply, reaching for her pack and saber, which Shreave had sent by her bed for her.

"What happened, Shreave?" She asked, looking a little scared. "I've never passed out like that before."

He sat down next to her, and said, "Force Exhaustion. Most of us never have to worry about it. We don't command to kind of power you do, so we never have to build our endurance for it."

She gave him a confused look, and he sighed. "Look, calling lightning in tiring, right?"

She nodded, and said, "If I call too much for too long." Shreave actually smirked.

"You drove back almost three dozen Tuk'ata, killed several, and injured most of the other. You were literall glowing purple, Zal. You have an insane level of power."

She stared back at him, and said, "Seriously?"

He nodded. "Eryon will never admit it, but you really impressed him this time. Alif as well."

She smiled faintly, and he said, "You feel up to continuing to the tomb today?"

"Yeah. Let's go." Grunting, Zalia hoisted herself to her feet, stretching her back out, and then swinging the pack on, and strapping on the saber.

"Want me to take the pack?" Shreave offered, noticing her wincing as she took a step.

"I'm fine, Shreave. Just…. Let's take it slow today."

He nodded, and said, "Eryon and Alif are talking to Lord Renning, or rather, Alif is, and Eryon's being twitchier than usual because he has to obey Alif."

She smiled slightly, and allowed Shreave to help her to the door, where she straightened up, and walked out under her own power.

The two of them exited the barracks, and moved out to the central grounds, where they saw Alif talking to a young woman who appeared to be Renning's apprentice.

Eryon stalked over to them, and spat, "We've been reduced to pest control, thanks to that kriffing Alif brat."

Shreave raised an eyebrow, and Eryon clarified. "We're hunting a mutant Tuk'ata to bring it's brain back for His Lordship, Renning."

Shreave shrugged. "Alright. I could always use the extra credits." Eryon spat angrily, and stormed off.

"I don't think he likes our plan." Zalia said, and Shreave shrugged.

"Since when do we care what the psycho likes?"

The soldier from the night before ran up to them, and asked, "You guys on your way to the tomb of Marka Ragnos?"

Shreave nodded, and he said, "Be careful. You probably don't need it, but ninety percent of the regular soldiers and archaeologists who go in there, go mad. They'll hunt anything living and not insane, and rip them to pieces We found out when Commander Tynes went missing, with an entire regiment of the Empire's finest."

Shreave blinked in surprise. "That sounds miserable."

Zalia looked up, and said, "I always guessed Harkun wants me dead, but this is overkill."

Shreave chuckled, and said, "I'm apparently marked for death as well. I'm here too."

The soldier glanced between them, and said, "Uh.. Ok? We good?"

Shreave nodded. "Thanks for the warning, soldier."

The man nodded, and strode away.

Rounding up Alif and Eryon, Shreave moved to the gate, which lowered.

"Ready for this?" He asked, and they shrugged.

"No? Alright! Let's go!"


	7. Localized Insanity

Shreave Rhell surveyed the area, and then motioned off to the left.  
A few moments later, the four Acolytes set off towards the massive crumbling stonework of the Tomb of Marka Ragnos.

While slogging through the barren red sands of Korriban, clambering over and around the ancient ruins and monuments to Lords long forgotten, Shreave wondered where these insane troops were supposed to be.

Spitting irritably, Eryon sneered at Alif, the younger acolyte falling behind.

"Too difficult, boy?" The Twi'lek snarled, tiring quickly himself.

Alif refused to answer, all attention on putting one foot in front of the other.

Eryon stepped forwards quickly, grabbing Alif's shoulder, and tossing the younger man aside.

"Answer me when I ask you a question!" he roared, but Shreave gripped his arm, and slammed the arrogant Assassin to the ground.

"Try me, Eryon. Come on, try something!" As Shreave snarled in Eryon's face, the Twi'lek felt a cold blade pressed to his chin.

Snarling savagely, Eryon nevertheless backed down, intelligence reminding him that he wouldn't be able to dodge this blade.

Stepping back, Shreave smiled grimly.

"One day, Shreave, one day, I will kill you!" Eryon snarled, and the cyborg Sith rolled his eye.

"You want to many holodramas, Eryon. No one talks like that in the real world." Shreave teased, then stepped back as the Twi'lek lashed out with a fist.

"Boys, enough!" Zalia snapped, glaring at both of them and looking frustrated, still looking worn out.

Shreave shrugged, and wandered over to help the younger Sith, who was scrambling to gather up all of his stuff that Eryon had knocked away.

"Don't worry about him. Eryon's just a little brat with temper tantrums. You ever been around babies?"

Alif smiled, and responded, "But is Eryon not more powerful?"

Shreave shrugged, and said, "Yeah, but I'm more powerful still. I'll give you some pointers, if you want."

Alif smiled slightly, and said, "I'd like that. Thank you."

Shreave smiled broadly, clapping the younger man on the shoulder.

"Anytime. Come on, don't want the brat to be too long without supervision."

The two quickly caught up with the two Inquisitors, who had stopped, staring at the low valley leading to the tomb.

Imperial troops were swarming the area, moving in tight formation, squads sweeping the area thoroughly.

"Think they're friendly?" He asked, looking curiously at the others, and Zalia said, "All Imperial troops here are supposed to be rouge, and completely insane. So you might get along with them, but no, they aren't friendly."

Shreave smiled, and began jogging down the side, weapon still sheathed, and the others followed, weapons ready.

"Greetings!" Called Shreave, and the soldiers spun.

There were no words, no motions, just perfectly synchronized bursts of fire, sending Shreave diving for cover.

Grimacing, he took a deep breath, before releasing a powerful roar at them, the sound waves crushing their armor in and sending them reeling.

Drawing his blade, he lunged in, followed by the others.

Eryon reached out, slapping the gun aside as he drove his blade straight through the unfortunate's throat as Alif slashed the legs out from another.

Zalia hung back, still feeling weak, but drew her blade and shot a few forks of lightning at any that escaped her allies.

The first group down, the Sith-in-training moved on, now using a bit more stealth.

Slipping past nearly a dozen groups, Shreave saw the towering monument that marked the Tomb of Marka Ragnos.

Off to the right was a crumbling area, from which issued various snarls and growls, evidently a Tuk'ata nest.

In front of them stood the main tomb, though a small bunching of tents blocking the road boded ill from them.

"Eryon, we'll defer to you this time, and let you lead us into the enemy camp." Shreave said, gesturing for the Twi'lek to take the lead.

"Screw you! How stupid do you think I am?" Eryon snarled, and Shreave laughed.

"Alright, Eryon refused to be the leader. Surely that won't affect future leadership decisions."

Eryon growled angrily, and Shreave said, "As leader, I have decided that Eryon will be the meatshield."

Eryon's blade swiped at his head, only for the Pureblood to duck under it, and casually punch Eryon in the stomach.

Gasping for air, Eryon was unprepared for Alif's kick, which sent him sprawling.

He snarled, but his revenge was halted in it's tracks by a call of "Drop your weapons, and prepare to serve the Lord."

Glancing at the others, Shreave saw his own bemusement reflected in the faces of the others.

A man in an Imperial General's uniform stepped out, vibroblade drawn, and his eyes glowing red with madness.

"Not sure I want to do that." Shreave said, taking a defensive position. "Which Lord did you say it was?"

"Marka Ragnos, Dark Lord of the Sith, and whom we all must serve!" The General crowed, and Shreave chuckled.

"Ragnos has been dead a few hundred years, buddy. You're camping in the ruins of his tomb, you know!"

For a second, his eyes dimmed, reality sinking in, only for Ragnos to come back in force, a shockwave expanding out from his position.

The four stumbled away, then lunged in, blades drawn, and calling on the force to power their attacks.

Deflecting blaster fire back into the crowd, slashing through the possessed soldiers, blood pooling on the sand, the Sith held their ground, even as they sustained injuries themselves.

"Well, this could have gone better." Shreave muttered, blood dripping from a half dozen deep gashes across his chest and legs.

"No, really? Maybe if you try to avoid riling up Eryon, then beating him down, we'd work together a little better!" Zalia snapped, gasping for breath, and barely able to do more than hold a lightning shield in place.

Suddenly, from the entrance of the tomb came a roar of fury, and a heavily armored Sith burst out, crimson saber raised high, and whirling through a dozen possessed in half as many seconds.

Shreave blinked a few times in surprise, then pushed towards her, followed by Zalia and Alif.

"Look out!" He called, and the Sith spun around barely in time to deflect one of the General's sniper shots.

Her hand went out, and the General dropped his weapon, clutching at his throat, which was rapidly compressing.

With a convulsive jerk, his head snapped almost 180, and he went limp.

Turning towards them, the Sith said, "There you are."

Alif gasped in pain as her outstretched hand gripped his throat in an uncompromising Force Choke.

"Let him go!" Shreave roared, flying at the Sith, who barely glanced at him before smashing a fist sized rock into the side of his head.

The world was spinning, but Shreave pushed himself up onto one knee, pulling in his strength, before letting it out in a convulsive scream that sent the Sith reeling.

The shock broke her grip on Alif, who collapsed gasping on the ground.

The Sith pushed herself up, the faceless helmet ripped from her head, revealing a mess of wires and mechanical parts almost holding her jaw together, and replacing an eye.

Shreave stepped between her and Alif, barely able to stand, and said, "Leave him alone."

Behind him, he felt Zalia using the minor healing knowledge she'd acquired to help Alif, though her own strength was far from optimal.

Eryon was nowhere to be felt, and Shreave felt a moment of fear.

The Psychotic Twi'lek was not someone he wanted to lose track of.

But his attention quickly focused on the known threat: The Sith who was trying to kill them.

As she reached her feet, he saw Zalia and Alif move to flank him, presenting a unified, if weak, front.

Smiling slightly, The Sith raised her lightsaber in a salute, and charged.


	8. Crippled Stealth

Eryon Massarde never considered himself a coward, and never would.

He was merely avoiding suicidal ideas, such as helping out the Sith who had obliterated a dozen soldiers before they even saw her.

Slipping quietly towards the Tuk'ata infested wing of the tomb, he help the saber in a tight grip, eyes darting around, taking in every last movement.

Leaping on top of the wall, he spotted a pair of the loathsome creatures, and inched along the top of the wall, willing himself to pass undetected.

He'd always had a talent for moving undetected, slipping food and eliminating rivals in the slave camp, but he'd never tried it around blood-thirsty Sith beasts.

Suddenly, he felt something brush against his mind, and retreated further into the Force, willing himself to remain undetected by Shreave's probing.

As he felt the Pureblood retreat, he smiled grimly, revealing pointed teeth.

So the brute had a weakness, and an easy to exploit one at that.

Dropping to the inner landing of the tomb, he passed slowly across the courtyard, reducing his signature in the force to nearly nonexistant.

However, untrained talent is unreliable, and he saw a Tuk'ata look up, its nose sniffing and ears twitching, drawing nearer to his position.

Raising the blade, he thrust forwards, aiming at the soft point at the junction of the neck and shoulder blade.

The creature died loudly, it's pained shriek sending the other into a frenzy of movement, with howls echoing throughout the tomb.

Pressing himself into a shallow alcove in the wall, Eryon watched the Tuk'ata charging along the corridor, circling the dead beast, and eventually settling in to eat.

Wrinkling his nose at the sight of the dead Tuk'ata being devoured rather messily, he used the distraction to slip past, deeper into the tomb.

Somewhere, he knew that there was a mutated Tuk'ata, and if he could retrieve the brain, he may be able to work his way into Lord Rennings service.

 _Actually, any Sith would be preferable to that arrogant shutta and that kriffin' Pureblood._

Snarling a little at the thought, he moved deeper, finally spotting the vicious creature.

It was twice as large as the others, and was a paler grey in color, along with having some darker stripes.

Stalking into the room, the Twi'lek drew his blade into a ready position, then sprang forwards, drawing a deep slash across the Tuk'ata's shoulder.

It spun, massive jaws open in a roar that seemed to shake the entire temple.

Holding his ground a mere 3 feet away from the monster, Eryon let out a roar of his own, a trick he'd picked up on while searching Shreave's grip on the Force during his screams.

The mutant froze slightly, then repeated the roar, this time charging forwards, a 500 pound mass of muscle and death.

Eryon leaped straight up, pushing off it's shoulders to flip over it, slashing in a quick movement behind him.

The Tuk'ata roared again, in pain, and threw itself sideways into the Twi'lek, sending both crashing to the floor.

Training saber gone, Eryon gripped the mutant's neck in one hand, while twisting it's right paw as close to 360 as possible.

However, the Tuk'ata was stronger than he'd anticipated, easily ripping it's paw out of his grasp, and drawing back to slash his face.

Blood dripping into his eyes obscured his vision, but Eryon didn't need to see.

Reaching out with the Force, he summoned crackling purple strands of lightning, intent on bursting every blood vessel this thing had.

The mutant's weight disappeared, and Eryon pulled himself upright, swiping a hand roughly across his brow.

Vision cleared, he reached out, snapping his blade back into his hand as the Tuk'ata scrambled back to it's four paws, smoke rising from the burned and charred fur.

It roared again, mingled desperation and fury echoing throughout the room.

Eryon smiled grimly, then charged forwards, blasting lighting at it.

The mutant shrugged the fragile strands off, twisting its head to clamp hard on Eryon's left leg.

The Sith screamed, then swung with all of the strength he could augment with the Force, freeing his leg from the decapitated head of the Tuk'ata.

Collapsing weakly on his bad leg, Eryon pulled the mutant's head towards him, slicing the head open, and removing the rather disgustingly mutated brain.

Pulling out a blanket stolen from the outpost, he wrapped the brain as well as he could, before shoving it back into his pouch, and retrieving a basic medpack.

Wrapping a Kolto soaked bandage around the wound, he hissed in pain as the thick liquid touched the deep punctures left by the teeth.

Stumbling upright, he glanced back towards the entrance, dreading the thought of having to pass the dozen Tuk'ata he'd slipped past again.

Looking past the Mutant's corpse, he saw another path, this one strewn with bones and rubble.

"Mutant's lair, or army of monsters…." He muttered angrily, before stepping past the dead animal, and crunching a bone underfoot.

The path looked to be a corridor deeper into the tomb, though it curved around, angling to where Shreave and Zalia were supposed to be headed.

Theorizing that due to the mutant's size and ferocity, that this area of the tomb would be all but uninhabited, Eryon entered, leaning on the wall for support.

Pushing forwards, he began using his training saber as more of a cane than a weapon, leaning on it rather heavily.

As he limped through the dim, bone strewn corridor, he saw a strange, flickering purple light ahead.

Seconds later, the sounds of a fight reached him.

Peering around the corner, Eryon froze, seeing one of the most feared dark side monsters in existence assaulting Shreave and Zalia.

Alif had snuck around behind the monster, climbing on top of the giant stone tablet that had summoned the Tarentatek.

Overall, it wasn't overly large, and seemed a little clumsy in it's swipes, but Eryon suspected its Force resistance more than made up for the inexperience of youth.

Sighing mightily, he started to step forwards, knowing that if he didn't, he'd be an exiled acolyte forever, without Zalia to raise him with her.

But even as he stepped out, Alif jumped down, landing between the spiked shoulders of the Tarentatek, and driving his blade into the top of it's head as hard as he could.

The blade sunk deep, and the Tarentatek let out an actually-earth-shaking bellow, huge arm smacking Alif into a wall, where it charged the dazed apprentice.

Eryon lunged forwards, blade raised, out-flung hand spraying amethyst electricity into the beast's chest.

Barely even acknowledging the assault, the Tarentatek drove a spiked fist through the wall, completely removing the entire right side of Alif's body.

The young apprentice let out a slight gasp of pain, before his eyes clouded over with death, and his head drooped off to rest on his remaining shoulder.

Eryon grimaced, then cut loose with a massive burst of lightning, focused entirely on Alif's blade, still lodged in the top of the Tarentatek's head

The Tarentatek roared again, the channel through it's defensive armoring sending volts deep into it's brain.

Limbs shaking, it collapsed, as Shreave's blade punched through it's chest.

Panting with the exertion, Eryon dropped to his knees, then off to one side, injured leg splayed out to the side.

Shreave circled the dead beast, then froze upon seeing Alif dead.

"Alif…" He said, then saw Eryon sprawled next to the dead apprentice.

"Couldn't you have done something?" Shreave snarled, his lip curling disdainfully as he looked at Eryon.

"I did, Sith. But evidently you're to stupid to realize that one, my leg is crewed to scraps, and two, lightning does kriffin' Nothing to those things!"

Nudging the Twi'lek with a toe, Shreave said, "Uh-huh. Too bad you couldn't save that guy you hated. I'm sure your real broken up about it."

Eryon spit on Shreave's boot, which earned him a rather hard kick.

"Erry, you're only alive because Zalia says you should be. I can fix that at any time, and Man do I want to."

Eryon snarled, but as usual, came to the conclusion that the Pureblood was tougher by far than he was, especially right now.

"Screw you, Shreave, I tried. Now call the Sorceress to do some healing on my leg. I'm sure she won't want me too badly crippled."

With a final snort, Shreave turned away, his hatred almost radiating in red waves.


	9. Just Shoot Lightning At It

Shreave Rhell stormed away from Eryon, muttering curses against the self-centered Sith.

At least that Sith lady would be happy, he thought, remembering the vicious assault she'd made, focused entirely on Alif.

The only thing Shreave could figure was that she'd been sent by Essor Kayin's master, revenge for outing his apprentice.

However, once he'd pushed Alif behind him, the woman ceased her attack, claiming that his time had not yet come.

Glancing over, he saw Zalia knitting together the torn flesh of Eryon's leg with a look of intense concentration.

Her eyes closed, Zalia's hands were hovering over the injury, glowing softly purple.

"How is he?" Shreave asked, more for appearance sake than concern, but Zalia missed the faint sarcasm.

"He'll be fine. The bite is painful, and the surrounding area is rather shredded, but it will heal well enough."

The glow slowly lessening, Zalia removed her hands and examined her handiwork. "Try that. Can you stand?"

Eryon stumbled upright as Zalia pulled away, and tried an experimental step.

By the expression on his face, it wasn't comfortable, but the lack of a major response meant that Zalia's ministrations were successful.

Glancing once again at the massive crumpled form of the Tarentatek, Shreave wandered over, reaching out for it's out flung arm.

Ignoring the questioning looks from the others, Shreave drew a knife, and began rather carefully sawing around one of the beast's claws.

Freeing it from the end of the finger, Shreave placed the claw in the small pouch affixed to his belt, before straightening and brushing the blood off on the creature's thick hide.

"Alright! Time to move on!" He stated, heading for the stone staircase back towards the central chamber of the tomb.

"Shreave? What about Alif?" Zalia asked, sounding concerned.

Shreave sighed regretfully. "We've got our hands full as is, Zal. Eryon's injured, other unfriendly ex-acolytes are waiting, and carrying a dead body will only make us slower. We leave him here, to watch over our kill."

He took the stairs three at a time, allowing his anger and frustration at the situation to grasp the Force to augment his speed.

He heard the other two following, and as he approached an archway, he slowed to allow them to catch up.

"Here." He said, and Zalia halted, motioning Eryon to one side, where he drew his saber, as well as the force around him, cloaking his activities.

Shreave saw a young acolyte peer out, spotting him. As their eyes locked, the young man yelped, firing blindly as he ducked back around the corner.

Twisting away, Shreave felt the superheated air pulled in the wake of the shots blow past his face.

Turned around, he launched himself back into the doorway as another acolyte stepped forwards.

He crashed into the Zabrak, rolling together as their sabers bounced across the stone corridor.

The other acolytes's pistol discharged twice as they rolled, and Shreave howled in pain as the shot burned through his shoulder.

Stepping in for a better shot, the human acolyte opened himself up to Zalia.

A bolt of crackling purple lighting pierced through his chest, blowing out the center in a perfectly charred hole.

Shreave hurled his opponent away, snarling angrily and showing his sharp canines, mirroring the Zabrak's growl.

Before his saber could reach his hand, Shreave saw the other acolyte stiffen, then collapse as Eryon withdrew his blade from the Zabrak's chest.

"You're welcome" the Twi'lek spat, stalking down the corridor.

Glaring, Shreave raised a hand, intent on choking the arrogant former slave until he begged for mercy, but paused when a hand touched his arm.

"Shreave, it's not worth it. You are the only decent person I've met since the Sith first showed up. Don't throw that away."

Zalia's quietly reasonable voice cut through the pulsing hatred echoing through Shreave's entire being.

"Zal..."

"He's not to blame for Alif. Now, sit down. I need to fix this shoulder."

He allowed her to push him down, then sat as her hands began to glow against the blaster wound.

"I'm not a master at this Shreave, but I can dull the pain, and give you limited use out of the arm."

"Thanks Zal." He said, then, as she patted his shoulder, began following Eryon down the hall.

"Where's this ancient monument anyways? You never specified."

"Neither did Harkun. He wanted me to get lost and die, no doubt."

"Naturally. And with Eryon, it would almost be a guarantee! Where is the huttspawn anyways?"

"Shreave, do-"

"Over here!" A scathingly insulted voice called, and they saw Eryon standing in an adjoining corridor, pointing. "You wanted a ancient unopened monument, right?"

"Yes, Eryon, thanks. We'll be right over." Zalia sighed, and more quietly added "Shreave, please lay off Eryon. He's an ass, yes, but he's cooperating. The harder you ride him now, the more he'll retaliate. Either relax and coexist, or we'll find our own way out."

Shreave shrugged. "Sorry Zal, he just rubs me the wrong way. But I'll try to deal more quietly, if you want."

"That's all I can ask."

The two walked into the massive chamber, where Eryon was currently smacking the peak of the massive monolith with his saber, sparks flashing as his blade glanced off.

Carved stone, the monolith towered over then at around twenty feet, capped by a small pyramid.

This pyramid was glowing, nearly translucent with swirling metal designs throughout, with a smaller one contained inside, evidently the target.

Despite Eryon's efforts, the pyramid rejected his most vicious attacks, and from what Shreave could tell, there weren't even actual scratched in the finish.

"Let me have a crack at it." Zalia called up, and Eryon slid down, his metal arm scraping through the carvings decorating the sides.

"At least those weren't important." Shreave muttered, glancing apologetically at Zalia after.

The sorceress ran at the monolith, leaping with Force augmented speed and strength, bouncing between the steep slope of the monument itself and the nearby chamber wall.

Reaching the peak panting, Zalia clung there desperately, trying the regain the strength expended to get there.

Shreave stared up as she closed her eyes and started to meditate, still perched precariously in the gouges Eryon had dug into it.

The entire tomb rumbled, and Shreave spun in alarm as a small pack of Tuk'ata and Shyracks came charging into the room.

"Whatever you're doing, keep it up! The monolith's trying to protect itself!" Shreave called up, motioning sharply for Eryon to join his attack.

The assassin rolled violet eyes, but complied, twisting in a sudden low cut that slashed one of the leading Tuk'ata's legs off at the knee.

Leaping for the next one, Shreave was once again appalled at the Twi'lek's callousness.

The carnivorous scavenging Shyracks had settled in to feed on the dying Tuk'ata, and the assassin was slashing their wings off.

As the creatures flopped around crippled, Eryon delivered killing blows as short, chopping blows to their heads.

Meanwhile, Shreave cut through the Tuk'ata as a matter of course, stabbing into their brains or hearts as smoothly and quickly as possible.

A sudden purple glow caused him to spin as Zalia, patience evidently worn out, jumped backwards, blasting the pyramid with lightning.

Pinning herself to the wall with the push back of her power, Zalia illuminated the entire cavern in an eerie amethyst glow.

Releasing her hold on the power, Zalia slumped down, then fell gracefully off the wall.

Shreave charged forwards, launching off the monolith, and catching the sorceress in midair, folding her close to him.

Wrapping himself around her as securely as possible, he reached out, calling on the force to slow his descent.

Despite the noticeable slowing, when he hit the ground shoulders first, Shreave felt agony arcing through his left arm.

The injury had been reawakened, and with a vengeance.

Hissing in pain, Shreave rolled the unconscious Zalia against the wall, and forced himself upright, glancing suspiciously at Eryon.

The Assassin, however, was gone, and as Shreave looked up, he saw Eryon at the peak, gently picking up the inner pyramid, now clearly recognizable as a ancient holocron.

The Twi'lek slid down in the same manner as before, scoring another deep gouge.

Arriving at ground level, he raised the glowing object for inspection, his already red visage turned into a crimson horror as his lips parted in a malicious grin.

Shreave placed a cautionary hand on his saber, and reached out.

"Eryon, I think I'll carry that for her, alright?"

The Twi'lek Assassin glanced up, lip curled in a faint snarl. "No need to burden yourself more, Sith. You've still got to carry Zalia out."

Shreave smiled, his attempt at a disarming and relaxing grin stiff and unnatural.

"It's no problem, really. You're going to have to protect us, so I wouldn't want you to be weighted down."

The two stared at each other, until a rough voice cut through the tension.

"Why don't I carry it, and you two hit stuff with those shiny sticks you carry?"

Turning, the two Sith acolytes saw the Sith Lady from before, saber lit and eyeing them dangerously from her one good eye.

"No!" Shreave paused in shock, noting that, for once, he and Eryon were in agreement. _If only you could see us now, Zal._

"Then the Twi'lek holds the holocron, Sithy gets the girl, and I'll hit things with my stick. Better?"

Studying her face, Shreave saw no real traces of deceit, though he knew that meant next to nothing when dealing with Sith.

"Why? Why the hell should we trust you? You nearly killed us out there!" Eryon spat, and she laughed, a grating mechanical echo.

"I was told to kill the runner. You did that for me, so I'll do something for you. And besides, it wasn't like I tried to kill _you_. You slunk off like a scared little Manka kitten."

Shreave chuckled, and said, "She's got you there, Erry. Alright, what's your name?"

"Kaesin. Apprentice to Darth Baras. And he wants a word with you."


End file.
